Donc ce Sera
by 1672033
Summary: A series of drabbles focusing on whatever I want, mainly Claire's life in Mineral Town. Rated T because I like dark themes. So read with caution, I suppose.
1. Moving

I didn't really want to move. I loved my same old, same old life. But I had to break free of my comfort zones. I couldn't let myself begin to settle— I'd be stuck in a rut for life. I'd let myself get married to an average joe, maybe have a kid or two, work at the same job until I retire, then die.

I promised myself a better life when I was younger. I promised myself something extraordinary. So I took a deep breath and picked up the telephone.

"Hello? I'm calling about the farm mentioned in the ad…"


	2. Bracelet

I stare at the gift he had handed me

I stare at the gift he handed me. As I move it around, it catches the light beautifully. I love it. But something prevents me from saying so.

I ask, "Did you make this?"

He nods, waiting for my reaction.

I say, "It's nice." Pause. "But I can't keep it."

He takes the jewelry from me then looks at me significantly. I want to snatch it back and put it on. I don't.

He turns, marching back to his room at the inn. I see him throw the bracelet away in the bushes. I run over to search for it.


	3. Stolen

'Kay, some Mature content is implied in this drabble. I warned ya. o 3o

Since I'm commenting anyways, I might as well add that I don't own Harvest Moon.

--

Claire hobbled along Mother's Hill, breaking into gasping sobs every few steps. She could feel the dense fluid drying on her thighs, a testimony to the ordeal she had just gone through minutes before.

The face of her attacker swam to the forefronts of her mind, splashing out along with the memory she was trying to forget. But how could she, when every festival, she'd see him; every day of her life. She couldn't forget. Not now, not ever.

She shivered, stifling her wheezing breath. The first time was supposed to be perfect…. It wasn't supposed to be like this.


	4. Attack

'Kay, some Mature content is implied in this drabble. I warned ya. 3

Since I'm commenting anyways, I might as well add that I don't own Harvest Moon.

--

Claire hobbled along Mother's Hill, breaking into gasping sobs every few steps. She could feel the dense fluid drying on her thighs, a testimony to the ordeal she had just gone through minutes before.

The face of her attacker swam to the forefronts of her mind, splashing out along with the memory she was trying to forget. But how could she, when every festival, she'd see him; every day of her life. She couldn't forget. Not now, not ever.

She shivered, stifling her wheezing breath. The first time was supposed to be perfect…. It wasn't supposed to be like this.


	5. Drink

Claire watched as Rick downed another cup. "That's your seventh drink," she said to him gently, "You should head…"

Her words trailed off when she saw his expression. He looked so—pitiful. It called on her motherly instincts; he looked just like a boy whose puppy got ran over a week after adoption.

"I know it hurts Rick but…" She blurted out, "No matter what you may think of her, she wouldn't want this."

Rick froze in his chair, cup half-way to his lips. Though he flung his wine towards the wall, he stayed silent; his glare was loud enough.


	6. Insanity

Warning: There's animal abuse in this one. It's not terribly detailed, but it's in here nonetheless. Don't like it, don't read it.

--

"Baa, baa black sheep, have you any wool?" Claire sang from her barn, "Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full."

Blood spilled onto her hands as she sheared her sheep's skin away from its body. White was stained with scarlet, innocence with corruption. "One for my master," she murmured, lovingly destroying her livestock, "one for the dame."

Snip, snip, their hearts were no longer beating—heads rolled away from their bodies. She was playing Queen of Hearts; off with their heads!

"One for the little boy who cries down the lane."

The next day, Gray received a package from Claire.


	7. Meal

"I made you some brownies!" Claire announced, "It's Valentines Day, so you have to take them!"

It was Valentines Day, but I accepted them gracelessly. I didn't care too much for brownies –especially ones with sugar— but she was my wife and I had to make her happy. She insisted that I eat.

As I began, my mouth lit on fire. I fell to the ground and screamed at her to help me. I moved about spasmodically, my heart beating slower every second.

Soon, she bent over my dead body and, lips brushing against my ear, whispered, "Happy Valentines Day."


	8. Percecution

If it's true that if you break a mirror, you'll get seven years of bad luck, I'm set for life. In the span of five minutes, I've broken fifteen mirrors. However, there's rhyme and reason to my actions: they've made attempts on my life.

Oh! You'll think me insane! Those mocking mirrors tried to kill me—not in a direct method, they're too smart for that. They messed with my head, showed me things I know aren't true; I know I don't look that haggard or that ugly. They are just trying to drive me to insanity.

It's a conspiracy.


	9. Pregnancy

I paced around the room. Step step, turn, step step, turn. I passed my hands over my stomach, flinching as I did so.

I didn't want this baby, though my husband'll be overjoyed when he hears the news—until he realizes that we haven't even had sex yet. He would know the poison that ran from Manna's lips weren't lies.

I'd only been unfaithful once! I moaned, sinking into a chair. Just that once… And he was away so long… I covered my face with a hand. What was I to do?

At that moment, the door opened. "I'm home."


	10. Compensation

Adult themes implied. You've been warned.

--

"But I really didn't do it!" My protests fell on deaf ears, though I rallied to try anyways. "I didn't murder him…!"

The mayor shook his head slowly. "You were the only one who could do it. And," he added, "your axe was bloodstained when Harris examined it." He indicated to his lower body, smiling knowingly. "You know the only way out of this, Claire. I could pull some strings and get you out of this mess."

I bit my lip— he was right. I tied back my hair, dreading what I was about to do. "Forgive me…" I whispered.


	11. Disorientation

Claire tore through the woods to find Trent. She wanted to apologize for everything she did; she wanted to see the familiar glint of his stethoscope; she wanted him.

As her planned dialogue ran through her mind, she heard twigs snapping. Eyes wide, she headed to the sound, hoping desolately to see him. Instead of silver, she saw pink.

"Popuri!" She shouted. "Do you know where Trent is?"

Popuri was strangely mute as she nodded and pointed behind her. Claire thanked her and hurried off. Popuri, waiting until Claire was out of sight, left to see Trent. She walked forward.


	12. Prayer

I could count thirteen hooded heads bobbing up and down as they walked up to Mother's Hill for the Ceremony; some tall, some shorter, but one lead the pack. The figure stood upright, an eminent symbol for the sheep.

A sheep paused for a moment to gesture at me to follow along. I was to become One of Them tonight.

Once the shepherd climbed to the top of the mountain, he un-hooded himself and was revealed to be Carter. Taking out a black book, he flipped it open to a well-worn page.

"Harvest Goddess, which art in Heaven…"


	13. Indecent

Excuse me for not updating; I've been busy (read: lazy) with tests and such.

--

Clair got out of the bed quietly, careful not to disturb the man next to her. Grabbing her clothes, she dressed hastily with her guilty conscience urging her to move all the more faster.

She forsook taking a shower in favor of returning home sooner. The evidence remained but fewer questions would be asked.

She cast a look back at the rumpled sheets and the figure that lay on them. Clair's hand hesitated on the knob, but after a slight pause, she moved out of the house. The door closed and Kai sat up, staring blankly at the whitewashed wall.


	14. Ring

This is just a story and not my views on certain issues.

--

All of my friends have a ring on their finger and a baby expected, while I have but an empty house to greet when I arrive home. The worst part is, I can't even blame myself. I was born motherly and affectionate but cursed to be infertile and thus, incomplete.

Karen is the hardest to bear. She has refused to birth the baby and is obstinately asking the doctor to kill it. She will not tell her reasons but I'm sure they're faulty.

How can mothers give up and even _kill_ their babies? I don't think I could ever understand.


	15. Discord

Lately, it's hard for me to write since I want to make my stories/really/ out there, though I think it wouldn't ring true for Mineral Town... But I digress.

--

Claire hasn't come home. It seemed like it was because of the altercation we had, but now, after hours of her absence, I know the wound lies deeper than that.

She didn't marry me out of love, I know that. She married for an obscure reason that no one, least of all me, can ever hope to figure out. But I love her. The question is: does she feel the same?

Presently, she walks in the room. I look up with bright eyes, thinking we will reconcile, that I can heal the wound.

She says softly, "We need to talk."


	16. Liberate

Claire stood at his grave, refusing to let go. She savored his very being and the thought that he wasn't here anymore was—impossible. To say that he was dead was like saying a good part of Claire was too.

Bending down, she placed a bouquet of flowers on his grave. The petals covered the tombstone, concealing the name etched upon it. A single trembling tear tumbled down her cheek.

She turned abruptly, now refusing to look at the mound of dirt that lay over him. She felt a cold hand encase her own, and with it, she walked away.


	17. Snowstorm

Claire jumped out of her bed, anxious to start her work. The previous day had been wasted for the snowstorm that had raged against her house for most of the day. Claire had fallen asleep before it subsided.

She slipped on her overalls and, after quickly fixing herself up in the mirror, rushed outside. What she saw devastated her: snow covered everything in sight, burying her chicken coop and barn in the crystals. A lone hoof stuck out from under the debris.

Claire stood there, still as ice, before her knees gave way. She fell face first into the snow.


	18. Contempt

Blaaargh. Being sick sucks.

--

Heaven has no rage like a like love to hatred turned,  
nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.

- William Congreve

--

"Claire," he said roughly, "I told you already. I haven't ever thought of marrying you." He looked her straight in her face, not realizing the amount of pain he had wrought upon her with his words.

Her eyes dim, she turned her head to the ground, murmuring words he couldn't hear. After a long moment, she made the appropriate hand gesture and said, "Fuck you."

Her lover drew back in surprise by the passion that burned in her eyes as she gazed at him. Claire moved him aside with a flick of her wrist, walking past him with a smirk.


	19. Subdue

For our first date, we visited the lake. Tonight, he led me there again. He wouldn't divulge why; he just shook his head and smiled oddly.

Now, as we hold hands and watch the stars, I feel as though everything is alright in the world. Animals cuddle around me, as if protecting me from the non-existent wind. The forest is as still as the calm before a storm.

Looking pointedly at the sky, he suddenly asks, "Do you remember when I told you I'll love forever? Well," with a cherubic grin that belies everything about him, he says, "I lied."


End file.
